The First Cut Is The Deepest
by FloofWolfe
Summary: PreMovieverse OC First in Infinity series As a general rule, the first cut is always the deepest. It may not hurt the most, and it may not be the worst scar, but it always leaves the deepest impression. But in war, what classifies as the first cut?


This is just a short ficlet about the backstory of one of my RPing characters. It's set in pre-Movieverse, back when the war was still on Cybertron. It's the first in the Infinity series.**  
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**The First Cut Is The Deepest**

Stormwing regained consciousness slowly, feeling drowsy. Where was she? What had happened? Her optics came online first and were greeted with the sight of a blank white wall. No, wait, she was laying down - that was a ceiling. The metal table felt cool under her wings and she couldn't help but shiver. All fliers hated being on their back.

The femme sat up slowly, aware that she must have been injured but not remembering what had happened. She didn't feel hurt, and her systems weren't reporting any injuries.

"Be careful, your equilibrium will be a little off," a soft, caring voice informed her quietly. Stormwing turned towards the sound, careful to move slowly.

"You're always takin' such good care of me, Handoff," flier teased, falling silent when the medic-in-training wouldn't meet her optics. Her grin disappeared at his solemn expression.

The silence was suddenly deafening. Stormwing scrambled for her memory banks, trying to recall her last thoughts. What had happened? She had gotten knocked out by a Seeker in the raid, her memory informed her, but had sustained no serious injury. But she knew – something had gone wrong. Very wrong.

"Handoff, look at me," she said softly, holding his gaze when his optics came up obediently. He wasn't much older than she, though he was much more compassionate. He wasn't suited for war, even as a medic. "What happened?"

Handoff tore his optics away after she asked the ominous question but Stormwing caught the pity there.

"Storm...your wingmates didn't make it."

Surprisingly, there was no pain. Stormwing had often wondered how she would react to her wingmates' deaths. She had thought it would hurt, but it didn't – not like any pain she knew. It felt like a dark, yawning chasm had opened up inside her spark. Any emotion she had been feeling vanished as if frozen solid.

"They were ambushed on the way out, and the Decepticons tore them apart before they could get back in the air. You're the only one left." Handoff looked up, briefly, but flinched away from the hard look on his friend's face.

Stormwing's voice came out flat and cold, though she felt nothing but numb. "That's fine. I'll just get transferred to another squad."

She could see the pain in Handoff's optics at the careless dismissal or her closest comrades, but couldn't bring herself to care. Not then.

"Prime...wanted to talk to you about that. I'll send him in," the medic-in-training said softly, voice tinged with guilt and defeat as he keyed open the medbay doors to admit the leader. Prime came in, watching with concern as Handoff left instead of staying with his friend.

For a moment, they simply stared at each other. The Autobot Leader's gaze was full of deep emotion, but Stormwing's was crisp as ice.

"I am...sorry for your loss," he started sincerely, moving towards her slightly but seemingly hesitant to get too as if he knew how close the femme was to lashing out. "You have only been an Autobot for a short time, and you have already gone through the death of your whole squad. I am sorry - it should not have happened."

"The war should not have happened," Stormwing replied sharply, curling her hands into fists as Prime flinched slightly. "I want a transfer."

The look he gave her was odd. It was something akin to pity, but closer to disapproval, and maybe tempered with unease. It was an indescribable expression and Stormwing had no idea what he was thinking. She didn't want _that look_. It made her feel like she was out of place, or that she was somehow broken. Like her reaction was wrong, and the femme was a nanoclick away from snapping at Optimus Prime when he spoke again.

"I am sorry. Your transfer will arrive tonight." And then he walked away, slowly, like he was old beyond his years, and the medbay door swished closed behind him.

Stormwing clenched her fists and brought them down on the table with a furious hiss. For the first time, she realized how useless she really was. Just a soldier in the chaos of war, and a part of her had just become a casualty. And in a different sort of way, it _hurt_.


End file.
